Life

I entered into the kitchen, only to have my uncle making breakfast. Or so he calls it, when in reality, it’s just taking out food ordered from a restaurant because he doesn’t “have the time”.

He doesn’t greet me, nor do I greet him. He just put the food on the table and snarled, “Eat your breakfast. I’ll be going to town with Ben to run some errands, having some fun. Lunch and dinner are on the counter so heat it up if you’re hungry.” Without wasting another second, he grabbed his keys and was out the door.

I stared back at the door closed behind my uncle's footsteps. Moments like these makes me wonder if I should be glad, or be sad that he’s left. On one hand, he’s gone. On the other, it comes to show how much care I get.

I’ve always told myself to be happy, and that there could’ve been a worse outcome. But that never changed the way I felt. After my parents’ death when I was 4, I was left under the care of my uncle. He doesn’t abuse me like how Cinderella's stepmother did with Cinderella….and I never went to bed hungry and always received clean clothes every six months. But that was it. No money. No special treats. I know I should be thankful I get anything at all…..but none of this was willingly. My maternal grandmother, the only relative other than my uncle that lives in America, had to pretty much force him to put me under his care.

I loved my grandmother. She was kind to me, being the only reason why I’ve felt some happiness in the past 10 years. In the fourteen years I’ve been living, the only reason why I’ve been lucky enough to eat my favorite food (vanilla ice cream) three times was because of her. First when I was 7, second when I was 11, and third when I was 13.

My grandmother was very amusing and entertaining. She told great stories about her adventures and other things. One of my favorite stories she has spoken about was about when she was 14, just like me now. My grandmother would go up hiking every Saturday with a guide. On one occasion, they came across a large snake, the guide identified the head was poisonous. My grandmother, rather than running away, grabbed the snake by its tail and swung it around until eventually slapping it against the ground until it died. Though it doesn’t seem impressive, the snake was 5 feet long, and she could’ve risked the chances of death.

“Lao Lao”, I would always ask her every time I see her. “Lao Lao” is Chinese for grandma, just like how Jiu Jiu in Chinese is uncle. “Why didn’t you adopt me instead? It would’ve been so much nicer. Or why not just move back to China and have some other relatives to take care of me?”

My grandmother would always just stare into blank space and give the same response: “One day, darling, you will understand why our family is like this. Now is not the time tell you.”

I really didn’t get that response. One day? When would that be? Did my grandmother have something in her that prevents her from taking care of me? Even if she did, why couldn’t I have gone back to China? True, I didn’t know most of the relatives, but my Chinese is more than capable of letting me survive in China.

I opened up the pack of rice, along with the fried beans and steamed beef and ate in silence. I looked out the window and saw a bird fetching worms for her children. Mom, Dad, I thought, I have only known you for four years, but if we were all suddenly together right now, would you accept me?

Author's Note

This chapter is kind of bad, honestly